


the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view

by StarAmongStones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Underage Drinking, post-3a finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarAmongStones/pseuds/StarAmongStones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles called Cora five times before he left a message. After that, it just became a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the distance between that was sheltering me comes in full view

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Season 3A. A.K.A. My take on Cora leaving town. 
> 
> Un-beta'd (if anyone's interested, hit me up?). Title from Breathe Again by Sara Bareilles.

Stiles called Cora five times before he left a message.

The first time was only days after she had left town. He was picking up some tomatoes to make pasta sauce for dinner when he remembered the first time they had tried to order a pizza together.

_“How do you not like mushrooms? They’re they only topping that matters.”_

_Cora huffed. “If you don’t order only anchovies and black olives, I won’t eat it. Deal with it.”_

_Stiles couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “You are so fucking weird,” he shook his head fondly. Cora rolled her eyes, but he definitely caught a lip twitch there for a second._

_They ended up ordering half anchovies and olives, half mushrooms and Canadian bacon._

Stiles let his phone ring through to her voicemail before realizing she was gone.

He didn’t leave a message.

* * *

The other times Stiles called Cora without thinking went along the same line. Like the one time he passed a music box in the window of the local antique store and remember how much Cora missed the music box her grandmother gave her when she was two. When she had found it – charred and broken, one side completely burned away – in her old room, she cried for twenty minutes straight. Stiles really wanted to call her and tell her a joke, do something to cheer her up. When he got her voicemail again, he remembered her happiness was no longer his to care about.

* * *

The sixth time he called Cora without thinking, he was a little drunk. Okay, maybe a lot drunk.

“Yo, Cora. I am angry at you,” Stiles stated with the conviction of the truly hammered. “You just up and left like it was no big deal, but it is. Anyway, I’m at this party at Lydia’s and she has this really big necklace, and it just reminded me of that time you went on a huge rant about how pointless jewelry is. I found it adorable, and I don’t think I ever told you that. I-“

“Stiles? Who are you talking to?” Scott asked, peeking into Lydia’s room.

“No one.” Stiles ended the call.

* * *

After that, he started leaving messages. The seventh was to apologize. The eighth through twelfth were to go through with what he had already almost done many times before.

“Hey, Cora. It’s me again. I’m at the pound, and do you remember that time I made you watch all those cute puppy videos on YouTube? Your nose did this crinkle thing when you laughed. I think that was probably the day I fell in love with you.”

* * *

 

After that, he stopped counting.

* * *

“Do you remember that time you fell asleep when we watched _Inception_ at the loft?” Stiles asked one night. It was two a.m., and he had been staring at his ceiling for an hour before finally accepting that he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon. “I think that was the last time I saw you conscious.”

Stiles didn’t ask why she never said goodbye. He hung up, tossed his phone across the room, and finally fell asleep reading Wikipedia articles.

* * *

Not all the calls were so heavy. Sometimes Stiles would call to leave a quick message about nothing at all.

“You were right, that new doughnut place is a health hazard. I love it so much.”

* * *

Stiles stared at his phone exactly one year after he made his first call. He ran errands, did some homework, but he always came back to sit and stare at his phone. Finally, around nine thirty, he couldn’t take it anymore. He would call, pleasantly wish Cora a happy life (if anyone deserved a happy life, it was a Hale) and finally leave her alone. Persistent as he was, he couldn’t go through another year like the last one; not knowing if Cora was getting the messages, or if she was simply ignoring them.

Before he could flick through his contacts, he received an incoming call.

“Cora?”  
“Hi.”


End file.
